


Breaking Point

by watermelonsuit



Category: Re-Animator (1985)
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Past Character Death, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 18:39:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8068441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watermelonsuit/pseuds/watermelonsuit
Summary: The last person Daniel Cain has left is the last one he would ever want.





	

It’s natural. Shock. Grief. Whatever it is Herbert has been murmuring to Dan since that day on his way to their classes, their rounds, but never their—his—research. Just before dawn, the paramedics had taken back the trauma blanket they’d given Dan, and Herbert drove them home in silence.

Herbert appears in the hospital corridors every so often, intense as ever but seemingly unperturbed. Dan hears the ambulance sirens, he sees death waiting for him somewhere in the halls, Herbert West beside it. They don’t speak to each other for weeks. Finally Dan comes home to find Herbert sitting on the narrow sofa Dan sleeps on now, the one that no one had ever really remembered was there before. He’s folded the wool blanket that usually lies crumpled on it or on the floor, and puts his hands behind his back as he stands up.

“I’m sorry,” Herbert says. A formality, Dan thinks. Something to get out of the way.

“I don’t forgive you.”

Herbert nods slightly and doesn’t linger.

He’s there on the sofa the next night, and this time exasperation drives Dan back to his room for good. Dan can feel Herbert’s eyes on his back as he leaves, and still feels the chill in his spine lying in his own bed for the first time in a month and a half, giving him space to feel Meg’s absence freely, physically. He remembers looking at her lying beside him, the glow she had there in the dark, but doesn’t remember what it felt like to hold her. He strips away the blankets and sheets, the bed wide and empty. On the night Herbert arrives, he’s practically welcome there.

There’s a voice in Dan’s head saying that this is the only consolation Herbert can offer and the truth, the disaster behind them won’t make it any good. Then something in him lets go and he’s in Herbert’s arms sobbing, choking on what he’s lost while Herbert holds him, awkward and uncertain.

The next morning there’s a cold hand on Dan’s back, a map of South American unfolding before him, a low voice in his ear. _Peru._ It’s too early, Dan thinks. He rubs his eyes and tries to focus on the roads and battlefields Herbert has marked out for them. The dead and dying before them. It's not over. 

“Okay.”


End file.
